


Acceptance

by Stargazer1323



Series: Last Words [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe in Miracles?, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargazer1323/pseuds/Stargazer1323
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was going through Sam's mind at the end of the Season 9 finale, especially after Crowley didn't show up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

_“I’m proud of us.”_

Sam couldn’t let those be the last words his brother ever said to him.

He had laid Dean’s body in his room, on the bed he had been so excited to have—his own bed, in his own room, for the first time since he was four years old. If it hadn’t been for his bloody, battered face, or his chalk-white skin, or the stab-wound in his chest, he might have just been sleeping. Except that Dean never slept like that, on his back with his hands at his sides. He slept on his stomach, sprawled as completely across any bed as he could get, always with one hand under his pillow where he kept a knife or gun. Even here, in the safest place in the world, he still slept with a gun under his pillow. They both had. Sam stepped forward, intending to check and see if there was one there now, but as he did, he caught a glimpse of the photo of their mother that Dean kept on his nightstand, and a wave of grief hit him so unexpectedly that he nearly collapsed. Instead of succumbing, he turned and fled.

Back in his own room, which remained resolutely bare of personalization despite Dean’s pleas that he also make himself a home here, Sam sank into bed and tried to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. He wished he had tried harder to think of this place as home, because he knew now that it was the only true home he would ever have. He was the last Legacy, the last Winchester, and, more importantly, it was the last place he had seen his brother alive. They had even been happy here for a while, before the Trials, and the lies, and the angels, and the damned Mark… Unable to bear the silence a moment longer, he got to his feet and headed for the library.

The library was no less silent than his room had been, but at least there was liquor there. Sam sat in the dark and drank… and drank… and drank… waiting for something—anything—to happen, but nothing did. He kept expecting Cas to show up and save the day, or Dean to burst through the door, blaring rock music to wake him up and telling him it was just a dream. But the bottle ran dry, and the silence grew even more oppressive, and he found himself thinking that he was going to have to accept that his brother was truly dead.

He couldn’t do it. Dean had been dead before, and so had he, and they had never accepted it, not once. He would find a way to get his brother back; he just needed time to think… and more alcohol.

On his way to the kitchen to find another bottle, Sam passed by the storeroom where he and Cas had locked Dean up to keep him from running off and doing exactly what he had gone and done anyway. The doors to the hidden cell were standing open, and spread out across the Devil’s Trap on the floor were the remains of an all-too-familiar demon-summoning spell. Upon recognizing it, Sam remembered how Dean had gotten out in the first place, and he also knew exactly how to get his brother back.

“Damn it, Crowley,” he raged as he refilled the bowl with the necessary ingredients and lit a match. “You got him into this mess. You WILL get him out, or so help me, God…”

The ingredients in the bowl caught fire and flared, but when the flames died down, the room was still empty. Sam waited, but the room remained empty. He tried the spell again, but Crowley still failed to appear. In a fit of rage, he threw the bowl against the far wall, screaming curses. He shouted at the ceiling, then at the floor, then at the empty air until his voice failed him, then he beat his fists bloody against the walls until he was too exhausted to stand.

He was being a hypocrite, he realized as he sank numbly to the floor. Hadn’t he told Dean to his face not six months ago that he would not do anything to save him if he died? He thought of Dean’s last words, of his willingness to die rather than let the Mark consume him completely. Was that any different than his own decision to accept death after the Trials had failed? And hadn’t he hated Dean for bringing him back from that, rather than accepting that he was ready to die? If he ignored Dean and tried to make some deal with Crowley to get his brother back, he would be as undeserving of Dean’s forgiveness as Dean had been of his. It was time for him to accept his brother’s death and move on. Despite everything that had happened between them, all their lies and fights and failures, they had saved people, even saved the world a few times, and, in the end, Dean had been proud of everything they had done together. It was the best legacy he could have asked for.

Getting to his feet, Sam cleaned up the remains of the ritual, closed up the storeroom, and headed back down the hall to Dean’s room. The best way to honor his brother was to continue doing the good work that they had both devoted their lives to, but there was one last thing he needed to do before he could move forward again. It might be too much to hope for to believe that Dean’s soul was at rest, but the first step towards helping him find peace was to give him a proper hunter’s funeral. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, though, he found himself unable to turn it. If he saw Dean lying there right now, he was sure his nerve would fail him. Let his brother have one last night in his own room, here in the sanctuary where he had finally been able to make a home. Let Cas have a chance to come back and say his goodbyes. Dean would still be here in the morning, and so would he. He wasn’t going anywhere this time.

“We did something to be proud of,” Sam said into the silence as he turned away from Dean’s door. “I won’t forget that. I promise.”


End file.
